


Green Light

by APgeeksout



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9467573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: Sex Pollen, or Placebo Effect? Either way, they end up in the same place after a spurt of green mist.The Brian Kendrick and Daniel Bryan, shortly after the 1.3.17 episodes of205 LiveandTalking Smack.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beedekka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beedekka/gifts).



The white towel was ruined, soaked in a sickly green that'd never wash out, and still the slimy stain wouldn't come off of his skin. He'd showered, and scrubbed at his face and hands until his skin was raw, burning and tender beneath the green tinge. It had barely faded, and the hot, prickling feeling was spreading now, up his arms and down his neck, his chest flushing red to make a nice contrast to his green cheeks. 

“The next time I see that miserable, low snake-in-the-grass, he'll pay,” he grumbled at his reflection, and flung the damp towel at the glass for good measure. He stomped out into the hallway, unsure whether he was looking for a trainer or a janitor or just someone he could smash in the face until it felt like victory.

The cool air hit his bare chest and he shuddered, realizing all over again how flushed he was. The corridor looked deserted, but a familiar voice echoed down the block walls toward him.

“I didn't antagonize him! That's just the way he is!” Daniel protested. “Oh, come on. Where's he gonna go? RoH?”

Rounding the corner, he found Daniel pacing the mouth of the hallway outside the GM's office – _his_ office, Brian remembered – and chuckling into his cellphone. “No, you're probably right,” he said. He reached the end of his circuit, and turned back, his eyes falling on Brian, tracing a path from his face, down his torso, and back up to the green palm he raised in a rueful wave. “We'll talk tomorrow,” he said into the speaker, already crossing the hall toward Brian as he ended the call.

Daniel's mouth ticked up into a grin. Brian would have put the boots to anyone else who dared laugh at him right now, but for Daniel he'd let it slide. After the past year, he'd have painted himself green head-to-toe if it would make Daniel Bryan feel lighter for a while.

“I guess Tajiri doesn't remember the old days quite as fondly as I do,” he said wryly, letting Daniel clasp his hand and tug him into an embrace. Despite the futile shower he'd taken earlier, he'd broken out in a fresh sweat, but Daniel didn't seem to mind it rubbing off on his button-down shirt or into his beard where it scratched against Brian's shoulder. He shivered at the sensation, familiar but suddenly overwhelming, and felt a sigh punch its way out of his chest.

Daniel clapped him on the back and pulled away, still smiling. “Maybe he'll come around,” he said. “In the meantime, step into my parlor. Maybe we can find some superstar spot-remover.”

“Har-dee-har,” he said, though he followed him through the doorway and propped a hip against the edge of the bare conference table inside while Daniel knelt to sift through a gym bag. The heat building under his skin pooled low in his gut at the sight, at the faint, fond memories it stirred up. He rubbed sweating palms down his thighs, biting down a curse when it left a faint green smear down the material, while doing fuck all to relieve the distracting buzz in his bloodstream, the growing constriction of his jeans.

“Let's try this,” Daniel said, snagging a cloth from the minibar tucked into the room's corner and soaking one corner in sweet-smelling oil from a bottle he'd produced from his bag. He nudged the door shut as he passed it, then reached for Brian's hand and rubbed a tight circle over the back of his stained knuckles. As they watched, the green tinge began to fade, carried away on the warming oil.

“You're the best!” He grabbed Daniel's shoulder and gave him a little shake in his excitement.

“Yeah? Should I start making them announce me as THE Daniel Bryan? THE G.M.?”

“THE fucking best,” he repeated, keeping his grip on his shoulder, feeling the shift of muscle and bone under cotton as Daniel cleared the skin over his knuckles and between his fingers, and turned his hand over to work on his palm, his touch firm and steady, warm and slick.

“You know,” Daniel said quietly, just audible over the sound of Brian's own heart in his ears, “I've heard a lot of weird stories about that mist over the years.”

Brian grunted. He'd heard those same whispers - probably at least once from Daniel himself - and written them off as bullshit, a rib to be played on the young and gullible.  Now, though, with his breath caught short in his throat and his cock throbbing painfully against his zipper, he was suddenly less sure.

“Think any of 'em could be true?” Daniel asked, raising an eyebrow; if he'd noticed the unmistakable bulge, then he was ignoring it with way more tact than Brian would have guessed he had.  He reached up and smeared a stripe of oil across across Brian's forehead with his thumb.

 _Annoited_ he thought dizzily, leaning into the touch, blinking to find Daniel's face so close to his own. He realized that the silence had stretched awkwardly around the space where he should have answered.

“Just maybe, huh?” Daniel grinned again and rubbed a slow, slick path along Brian's chin, outlining the space between his bottom lip and the edge of his beard.

He shivered again, even though he was hot all over, and gave up a broken gasp when Daniel pressed in close and leveraged him up to sit on the edge of the table, then stepped into the space between his knees.

“I'm going to take care of you,” Daniel promised, and lifted his hand again to press a bristly kiss into his clean palm.

He lost the thread of the night for a little while after that: sweat beading and running down his spine, Daniel's fingers framing his jaw, blunt nails scraping through his beard, his own trembling hands twisting into the too-many layers of cotton between them, jerking shirt-tails free from Daniel's belt, sending a button clattering across the surface of the table, a soft huff of laughter against his cheekbone.

Daniel tipped his chin down to look him over. “Looks good,” he pronounced, and let his hands landed warm and heavy on Brian's thighs.

“Don't I always?” he asked, voice only a little steadier than his legs, tense and trembling between the tabletop and Brian's palms.

“I _am_ supposed to be an authority figure now,” Daniel said, grinning wickedly as his fingers walked over to, and then slowly took down, his zipper. “I don't know if I'm supposed to feed your ego like that.”  Daniel drew back just far enough to let him slide from the top of the table to the floor, the better to nudge his jeans down far enough to free his cock.  

He drew a sharp breath at the air on new areas of his flushed skin, and the quick, slippery stroke of Daniel's oiled hand along his length. “Rules are meant to be broken,” he said, hooking his own fingers inside Daniel's belt to tug him closer and let the bulge in his pants rub against his own hip. “I mean, I don't know if you're supposed to be trading handjobs with talent, either.”

“You saying I should stop?” Even as he said it, he closed his hand tighter around Brian and leaned in to press a hard kiss to his mouth, so that he couldn't have said _please, no_ if he'd needed to.

Daniel had less hair now than the last time they'd done this, but still more than enough to grip a fistful of, to keep him close even as he dipped a hand beneath his belt to wring a gasp out of him. It wasn't a competition, exactly, but he was still proud to find that Daniel was just as hard as he'd been, already leaking in his boxers before he swiped a thumb across his head.

Of course, it wasn't exactly _not_ a competition, either – it wasn't like they could just go a round in the ring any more – and as his hips rocked into Daniel's fist, he was pretty sure Daniel was going to be the one to come away with bragging rights.

Daniel worked him steady and sure and merciless, and he felt the tingle of his orgasm bearing down on him. He tucked his face into the crook of Daniel's neck, sinking his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, wondering how much of a mark he'd leave through two layers of cotton.

Not that he had much time to think about it before he was coming hard, spattering Daniel's hand and the front of his rumpled shirt. He stifled a moan into his neck and twisted his grasp tighter into his hair, keeping him close, so that even boneless and messy as he was, he could finish him off. When he finally got him there, Daniel stiffened and then sagged into him, the table at his back propping them both up for the moment.  He scraped his hand back through Daniel's sweaty hair. 

“Got you kind of sloppy, huh?” he asked, plucking at Daniel's probably-ruined shirt.  They were both clean of the green sludge, but tacky now with oil and sweat and come.

“You low-down, dirty dog, you!” Daniel laughed, deep and familiar, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Too bad I could never hate your guts."


End file.
